The rain outside Rex's Swindon office fell with a quiet persistence, tapping against the tall glass windows like whispers from the past — subtle, but impossible to ignore. Inside, beneath the golden glow of the warm ceiling lights, Reyaan Malhotra (Rex) sat reclined in his black leather chair, an open file in his hand and a storm in his eyes. The room was silent, save for the low hum of the server hub behind him and the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the armrest.
Before him lay the psychological blueprint of Kiaan Verma — every detail peeled back like layers of skin, exposing his marrow. A full dossier filled with personal history, behavioral patterns, emotional triggers… and weaknesses.
> "Kiaan Verma," Rex murmured, narrowing his gaze. "The perfect storm inside a boy who doesn't even know he's the lightning."
He read aloud, slowly, voice dipped in a mocking amusement.
> "Father: Rajeev Verma… deceased. Mysterious circumstances."
"Stepmother: Nandita… manipulative parasite."
"Stepbrother Shaurya… inferiority complex in a rich kid's skin. Must be delightful family dinners."
A smile tugged at the corner of Rex's mouth, cold and sharp.
His eyes flicked further.
Topper – School, College, Training Academy.
Health Issues – Migraine. Arachnophobia. Bullet wounds. Childhood accident.
He zoomed in on the medical section, reading the psychologist's note on arachnophobia — an irrational yet uncontrollable fear of spiders,passing out from panic. Even now, his pulse spiked, pupils dilated, and control faltered whenever exposed to them.
> "Ah," Rex chuckled darkly, leaning forward. "So the fearless puppy does shiver."
A map of Kiaan's daily routine projected from the holotable — clean, disciplined, predictable.
> "7 AM – Jogging.
8 AM – Work.
1 PM – Lunch with team.
4 PM – Tea stall.
7 PM – Home.
9 PM – Lights out…"
Rex scoffed. "Like clockwork. But you're not a machine, Kiaan… You're a loaded gun. Just waiting for the right finger to pull the trigger."
He stood up, walking across the room as Arav entered silently, holding an encrypted tablet.
> "Still going through his file, boss?"
Rex didn't answer immediately. He stared at the digital board displaying Kiaan's lifestyle: no luxuries, simple bike, most of his salary sent home… and then stolen by ungrateful family.
> "You ever seen a lion raised among wolves, Arav?" Rex asked suddenly.
Arav tilted his head. "No."
> "That's him. Kiaan. Raised by people who made him feel small… while unknowingly forging steel in his bones."
He took the tablet and reviewed a short surveillance clip: Kiaan giving money to Nandita, getting mocked by Shaurya, then disappearing into his small room with clenched fists and a hollow smile.
Rex's expression didn't change, but Arav could sense the shift — something in Rex had moved. Not pity. Not respect. Curiosity… and danger.
> "He's broken, boss," Arav said. "That kind of pain—"
> "—makes people reckless. I know." Rex cut in. "But it also makes them dangerous… because broken boys like him, when they stop begging for love, they start carving their own path. And it's always soaked in blood."
He dropped the tablet back onto the table.
> "His friends are his leash. His rage is his gasoline. But if he ever learns to stop caring…" Rex paused. "Then he becomes like me."
Arav shivered.
> "Should we do something?" he asked.
Rex turned toward the window, eyes piercing through the mist and glass.
> "No. Let him keep walking. Let him jog. Eat biryani. Laugh with his team. And let him keep thinking that cutting off his phone saved him from my eyes…"
He smiled — not warm, not cold, but fatal.
> "Because I don't need to watch him anymore. I just need to know when he breaks. That's when I'll strike — not to kill him…"
Rex turned back, voice dropping to a chilling whisper.
> "...but to use him."
And with that, Rex shut the file with a slow, deliberate snap — as if closing the lid on a coffin he hadn't buried yet.